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What do I want out of life?

I’ve been mulling that question in my head a lot lately. It’s sometimes hard for me to know what is an authentic feeling and what is a consequence of an imbalanced mind. I think the most sensible thing to do is to leave my thoughts here and revisit them on a later date.

Over the past few months I’ve been more of a cog in the machine than a human being. My workload has increased to an inhumane degree, and with the sudden departure if my colleague it has more than doubled. I have to now keep everything afloat while also holding interviews to hire a new assistant. I’ve spoken to more than 20 people today wanting me to hire them and pouring their life stories out to me in a voice that only sounds like desperation. I want out.

I have a very specific image of the person I wish to be. Independent from the clock to create in a whirl of creativity and profound sadness that only fuels the fire. Windburned skin and sun damaged hair, a wild body that reflects adventure. I want to wander.

I want to dance naked by the fire of my own insanity. I want to meet strangers in a hotel lobby and take them up to my room. I want to be nursing a hangover with paint under my nails in a coffee shop without a single regret from the night before. I want to leave young men sexually satisfied in a way that leaves them broken and thinking of me for a long time. I want rough hands gripping my hip bones in the split second before the only words said are, “don’t go.”

I want to be at the same time single and needed. Though, I’ve been single before. It’s a very lonely existence. I remember driving around aimlessly to nowhere in particular and when announcing my arrival, no one looks up. It’s a very strange thing to reject all conventions and yet somehow want to be desired for it.

It seems that my wish to be an unattainable object of unrestrained burning desire…is the object that I myself cannot attain. Perhaps I am my own white whale.

 

 

 

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